Tanka Soldier Poems | Tanka Poems About Soldier

These Tanka Soldier poems are examples of Tanka poems about Soldier. These are the best examples of Tanka Soldier poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Tanka |

Namesake

My grandfather's name
Was given to me at birth
To honor the man
That my father never knew
Having died in World War Two

Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2015



Details | Tanka |

Army Rangers Rescue UFO Abductee

Up on  mountain top.
Just don't know how I got here.
Army Rangers  rescued me.
Says UFO kidnapped me.
Sure lucky I was let go.

Copyright © James Ray Morris | Year Posted 2013

Details | Tanka |

What We Really Fight For

When you ask 'soldier 
what he fights for, it is not 
apple pie and dear 
old mom, nope this is what he 
fights so hard for; a woman

Copyright © Steven Siegel | Year Posted 2015



Details | Tanka |

The Survivor's Curse

Wrath
Here I stand, upon
This hill, this hell of gunshots,
Pouring blood, whiskey,
Cadavers made into walls;
Unashamed generals lead
Color-adorned men
To untimely demises,
No food, no water,
But you must not leave The Cause,
For you have been called to fight
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Lust
Here I stand, upon
Lucky men who succeeded
In getting out of
The Cause’s grasp. If they died
Not, others would have instead.
Honor the Dead. For
The real reason we shoot at
Strange, potential friends
Is them. For them I stand here,
In crossfire of friend and foe
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Sloth
Here I stand, upon
The cold, hard, sure motherland,
Iron-tipped boots clack
To attention; another
Round goes off, some soldiers fall,
The Cause does not see
Its men pass into slumber
Forever. They squirm
On the doctors’ amputation
Tables, their last, faithless hope
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Pride
Here I stand, upon
Conquered, bleeding land
The stench of carcass
Drifts up from the trenches dug
Around an area not
Ours. Yet it is ours.
Men impaled for The Cause prove
That we should be here.
But what is The Cause? It is;
Fight for Its glory, think less
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Envy
Here I stand, upon
The trench lookout hill, I spy
Officers speaking
To comrades of their color,
Red. Red as blood. Red as Death.
Emblem on their caps
A symbol of hatred of
The Cause, and all good,
But I pity these poor men,
Stuck in the same place as me
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Gluttony
Here I stand, upon
The landscape of wilderness,
Polishing my gun
So that when I join my friends
In Death’s tender, firm embrace
I will look a man.
The final bottle makes its
Rounds before we load
And run out to meet and shoot
Men who know The Cause’s truth.
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Greed
Here I stand, upon
The ruins of a kingdom,
The Cause – what cause? Won,
Masking innocents’ crying,
Feeble, never to be heard
By the ruthless. They
Listen not to all the Dead;
Too busy gulping down
Alcohol to kill painful
Memories of The Cause
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Copyright © J. Amorose | Year Posted 2017